


Weekly Voldie

by petroltogo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because Harry Is Done Playing Nice And Quiet, Crabbe and Goyle have actual personalities, Crack, Crack With A Little Plot, Gen, Golden Trio Friendship - Freeform, Harry Becomes A Reporter, Harry Makes His Own Newspaper, Harry May Or May Not Become A Dark Lord, Harry is a Little Shit, Hermione's Sanity May Not Survive, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Humour, Luna Wants To Be A Minion, Luna is an Enabler™, Parvati Gives Fashion Advice, Potentially Offensive Humour, Ron's Pretty Cool, Sassy Pansy, Smart Harry, The Death Eaters Are Intrigued, The Order Is Amused (But Also Worried), The Slytherins Are Suspicious, Theo is insane, To Death Eaters, Umbridge Does Not Have A Sense Of Humour, Yup you read that right, Zabini is perpetually unimpressed, but when are they not, dark humour, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-06-26 22:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petroltogo/pseuds/petroltogo
Summary: Everything A Decent Death Eater Needs To Know About Britain's Most Belovedly Feared Dark-Lord-Who-Definitely-Isn't-Backas reported to you by Harry J. Potter, the Boy-Who-KnowsHarry needs a hobby. Luna offers to show him the ropes in investigative journalism. — In other words: Luna Lovegood is Luna Lovegood, Harry is so done with the Wizarding World, Ron is along for the ride, and Hermione really doesn't have time to stop Harry from becoming a Dark Lord.





	1. VOLDIE* IN THE MAKING

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter, including all familiar characters and places. I'm just playing with them because I was left unsupervised.
> 
> Warning: Humour and by that I mean half-serious, utter crack. Also Luna. And ridiculousness. Did I mention the crack? Because definitely that. Inappropriate humour. Discussion of Dark Lord relevant topics up to and including muggle torture, casual murder, unhealthy fixation on minors... You know what we're talking about.
> 
> I have no idea what I'm doing. Consider this carefully before proceeding. Also have fun, otherwise this fic loses whatever point it has left.

**WEEKLY VOLDIE***

*Everything A Decent Death Eater Needs To Know About Britain's Most Belovedly Feared Dark-Lord-Who-Definitely-Isn't-Back

_as reported to you by Harry J. Potter, the Boy-Who-Knows_

* * *

**Chapter I: VOLDIE* IN THE MAKING**

* * *

 Hermione was panicking.

She loved Harry Potter, truly, she did. He was her best and closest friend. But although the boy was a total sweetheart and usually meant well, he also managed to cause the deadliest of troubles without even trying. It felt like only yesterday that she had talked Harry out of adopting Slytherin's  _poor_ ,  _misunderstood_  monster — and yes, she'd been forced to write an eulogy for the ruddy snake that had petrified her in the end — and she steadfast refused to acknowledge their third year.

As far as Hermione was concerned, there was no third year.

But she was getting off-track. The point was, Harry created chaos wherever he went and whether he meant to or not. Unfortunately, after four years of being relatively mild-mannered and willing to foil any dark schemes that went too far out of control, Hermione feared that Harry had finally been pushed to far. Considering he had spent the summer locked away with his unpleasant relatives and made no secret of his frustration with Professor Dumbledore, Mrs. Weasley, and a few of the order members he'd gotten to know, not to mention the ridiculous trial Minister Fudge had tried to pull, well.

Let's just say Hermione had reason to assume that Harry wasn't just looking for trouble, but grabbing the first sight of it with both hands and snogging the life out of them. Not that she could blame him. ( _Dear lord,_  she hoped he wouldn't stumble upon Malfoy first. The guy was a git, but he deserved a fair warning.)

The Daily Prophet's damned campaign against Harry had really only added fuel to an already dangerously cackling fire.

No, Hermione had seen the glint in Harry's eyes these last few days, whenever he assumed nobody was watching him. And  _The Smirk™_.

A smirking Harry was a recipe for disaster. The kind that got trains blown up and Ministries levelled to the ground. And Hermione just knew somehow she would be dragged into it. Not that she minded hitting the Ministry with a couple of harsh truths over their collective head, but it was the principle of the thing.

You don't go around setting everything on fire and rebuilding the ashes just because the world isn't to your liking. You especially don't do so whilst the threat of expulsion is still very real and possible.

Ron, of course, had bought Harry's sad "I just need a little space, mate, it's a bit much right now," spiel this morning. Because Ron — for all his good qualities when he wasn't being a stubborn prat — was terribly naive when it came to Harry's secret aspirations to become a Dark Lord. Granted, it had taken Hermione herself a while to catch on — that Luna Lovegood of all people had to clue her in really was unforgivable — and some days she wasn't entirely sure if Harry himself was aware of the ultimate goal his more underhanded machinations would lead to — Harry could be quite charmingly oblivious, the sweetheart — but that was no excuse. Ron was a smart guy with a more than decent grasp on tactical thinking. It was just too bad that the poor guy had a blind spot several Quidditch pitches wide, centred directly around Harry's less advertised characteristics.

Which was why it fell to Hermione to ensure that Harry didn't somehow get even and take over the world while her back was turned.

As such, Hermione understandably panicked when she lost track of her friend on the Hogwarts' Express.

Thankfully, being Harry Potter's best friend for close to five years meant that she was used to it. Whether it be staying alive in a bathroom, watching her best friend almost kill himself multiple times on that trice-cursed Quidditch pitch — or, as Hermione referred to it, the tragic end of foolish choices —, figuring out the logistics of time travel and its practical applications in her day to day life, aiding in the escape of two wanted fugitives or trying to beat some sense into Ron through sheer force of will — the past few years had done an excellent job of preparing her for the madness that was Harry Potter's life.

This had the happy side-effect of allowing Hermione to panic much more efficiently than most people her age would probably manage. If there was anything she wasn't lacking it was, after all, practice.

It was therefore a determined Hermione Granger striding down the hallway and methodically checking the compartments she came across with a steady grip on her wand and a furious curl of her lips, telling the world she was ready for anything.

 _Well, almost anything_ , she amended silently, quickly shutting the compartment door behind her with a grimace that didn't quite hide her flushed cheeks.  _It seems Ginny has indeed gotten over her crush on Harry, who knew?_

She'd let Harry know — tactfully and without disclosing any of the more private details, naturally — but it wasn't like he had noticed in the first place. In fact, Hermione still wasn't entirely sure he was aware that he'd been on a date during the Yule ball. She would have thought it impossible, but Harry's obliviousness had caught her by surprise before.

Like that time back in the third-year-that-wasn't, when Seamus had flirted with Harry and Harry hadn't noticed. Or the two hundred and fourteen incidents since, where Seamus had flirted with Harry and Harry hadn't noticed.

Just thinking about it makes Hermione roll her eyes hard enough to hurt.

She'd have clued Harry in by now, if only because even Ron had caught on and she felt bad for Seamus' dignity, but the fact of the matter was that Seamus — with his penchant for causing explosions and his obsession with learning how to turn water into rum — would be exactly the sort of well-meaning idiot who would shamelessly enable Harry in his Harry-ness.

Hogwarts would never survive it.

Hermione still regularly had nightmares of Harry ending up with one of the Weasley twins — and on one, memorable, very apocalyptic occasion, both of them — she refused to pave the way towards total destruction.

No, Seamus was on his own.

Putting the matter out of her mind for the time being, Hermione continued her search for Harry He-Who-Would-Undoubtedly-End-The-World-Or-Otherwise-Get-Into-Unimaginable-Trouble-If-She-Didn't-Find-Him-Soon Potter.

Ten minutes later Hermione had interrupted no less than fifteen heartfelt reunions — some more enthusiastic than others, honestly, she didn't need to see so much of her fellow students — and still found neither hide nor hair of the missing Boy-Who-Lived.

It wasn't an understatement to say that Hermione had gone  _way_  beyond panicking at this point.

 _I have to be rational about this_ , she sternly reminded herself and sent a deadly glare at her traitorously trembling hands. _It's not like he could have blown up the train or anything. Would, I mean. It's not like Harry would blow up the train. And I've already passed Malfoy two compartments back— Did I remember to warn him? I just know I shouldn't have given Harry that book about 'Sexuality in the Modern Wizarding World'. What was I thinking? And then Ron left him alone with Sirius for almost half an hour! Doesn't he realise how much Harry can achieve in half an hou—_

It was at this moment that Hermione's increasingly horrified, internal rant was interrupted by the terrifying, mind-numbing sight before her.

Distracted by her own mental ramblings as she was, Hermione had thrown the closest compartment door open with more enthusiasm than strictly necessary. She deeply regretted this now because much as she'd believed she had seen it all by now, Harry lived to prove her wrong time and again.

The sight that greeted her in the aforementioned compartment was worse than the combination of Weasley twins and Harry Potter, worse than discovering Susan's apparently adventurous side, and far, far worse than anything Draco Malfoy had been up to since second year. There had been no signs, no warnings, nothing that could have prepared Hermione for this.

Because there, on the floor of the otherwise empty compartment was the stuff Hermione's worst nightmares were made of:

Harry sat on a spread out cloak, braiding Luna Lovegood's long hair, apparently in the middle of a humorous conversation. Both Harry and Luna had turned towards her and were now looking up at Hermione with big, innocent eyes.

She didn't scream, but it was a close thing.

"Harry!" Hermione squeaked after a moment, too high and too loud, but at least not entirely hysterical. She was reasonably proud of her achievement. Then, after an awkwardly long pause— "There you are."

Harry stared. "Yes," he said slowly, almost uncertain, after a moment. "We got on the train together, didn't we?"

He didn't sound so sure about it now. Then again, with the way he looked at her, he might suspect her a Moody plant. After last year — and her behaviour just now — Hermione couldn't blame him.

Just because Harry might accidentally turn into a Dark Lord if left to his own device, didn't mean she should let her own imagination get away with her like that. Especially since that was something she tended to criticise in Luna. Besides they were on the Express and it was Luna. Really, what could have happened?

"Yes, we did." Hermione smiled reassuringly at Harry, who still looked wary. "What I meant to say was: What are you doing?"

It was the right thing to ask. Harry positively lit up at the question, and as Hermione turned around to close the door behind her, she couldn't stop a soft smile from forming on her own lips in response. It truly was a rare feat to see Harry so happy — had been even before the end of the Triwizard Tournament — and she was glad to see that side of him again.

Even if it tended to end with a severe headache and life-threatening incidents for the rest of them.

"Oh, I was just telling Luna that I'm looking for a new hobby," Harry told her readily. "Spending so much time at the Dursleys made me realise that I don't actually do all that much. Well, besides Quidditch, but that's not always an option. And I think annoying Dark Lords' should at least count as a part-time job." He shot her a cheeky grin at that, which Hermione answered with an eye-roll that was entirely too affectionate for her taste.

"Anyways, Luna suggested I try my hand at writing."

Hermione blinked, countless evenings spent listening to Harry whine over one essay or another in the common room flashing before her mind. "Writing?"

Harry grinned wryly, like he knew exactly what she thought. "Yeah. I might not like doing my homework the way you do, Hermione, but I spent a lot of time these last few weeks catching up on the news." His eyes darkened a bit and Hermione mentally winced as she remembered some of the harsher articles she had come across. "And I think I'd like to be a reporter."

"A reporter," Hermione repeated, stunned. "You."

"Yeah. What better way to avoid getting stalked than being the stalker, you know?" Harry smiled, a little embarrassed and a lot satisfied.

…that was an ominous statement if Hermione ever heard one. It also sounded suspiciously like the kind of turn-about argument Luna liked to evoke to confuse people into agreeing with her. Damn it. If she lost Harry to Lovegood's scheming there would be no Wizarding world left to worry about a Dark Lord conquering it. Which would of course be one way to solve the problem.

"So," Harry continued happily, "Luna has kindly offered to show me how to become a proper reporter. She is an undercover agent, posing as a Hogwarts' student, did you know that?"

He appeared undaunted by the glowering glare Hermione bestowed upon the younger Ravenclaw. Oh, Hermione had a bad feeling about this.

"Undercover agent?" She regretted the question immediately.

"Actually, I am a minion pretending to be an undercover agent posing as a fourth year Hogwarts' student," Luna proclaimed cheerfully. "But until my Lord recognises his followers' true potential, I have to settle for uncovering the truth behind the drunken rainides bi-monthly meetings on the third floor. My father suspects Professor Dumbledore is hiding star powder in the school again, it's been known to attract rainides during their mating season."

To that Hermione honestly had nothing to say. But from Harry's visible intrigue at the statement alone, she knew she couldn't let the conversation continue. Not even Merlin himself knew what Harry was capable of when prodded and encouraged by Luna. Hermione feared for them all, she truly did.

"So, what has Luna taught you?" Hermione hastily asked. With a bit genuine curiosity even. Maybe Harry would actually find a hobby that won't cause her premature heart failure one of these days.

Inwardly, Hermione snorted. Yeah. That would happen.

"Just the basics so far, I'm only just starting." Harry shrugged, but gestured towards a brand new notebook, well-used to Hermione's inquisitive nature.

"The foundation is the most important part of any building," Luna chided.

Hermione ignored Harry's abashed agreement and opened the notebook on the first page. Unsurprisingly, Harry had noted Luna's advice down with far more care than any of his assignments have ever received. Hermione would scold him, if she wasn't secretly amused by the increasingly inventive insults Professor Snape came up with for Harry's 'chicken scrawl'.

_The Basic Rules of Reporting as told by Luna Lovegood_

_\- Write about what you know well_

_\- Write about what you're passionate about_

_\- Write about what you want to share with others_

_\- Write about what's relevant to other people_

_\- Write about what others don't_

"Huh." Hermione tilted her head in silent consideration. "That actually doesn't sound too bad."

By which she meant it might not get Harry or the rest of Hogwarts killed by dinner time today. Always a plus.

Luna blinked up at her with huge, blue eyes. "Thank you," she said with a soft smile.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the blonde girl, but she had already turned back towards her class book. Which she was reading upside down.

"Right?" Harry beamed. "And it gave me an idea. If the official papers don't report the truth, I'll just make my own."

Ron sometimes joked that Harry had a You-Know-Who sense that told him when Voldemort was close or planning something particularly bad. Hermione had yet to see any satisfying proof of such a thing, but if Harry did indeed have it, then Hermione had an equally finely-tuned  _Harry_  sense that told her when her best friend was about to do something insane.

Said Harry sense was currently going crazy. Hermione felt like her stomach had suddenly dropped to her feet.

"Er—"

She honestly couldn't think why, since Harry definitely had worse ideas — like playing catch with a dragon — and really, how bad could it be? Starting a student paper certainly wasn't the worst thing, Dumbledore might even be on board with it. So why did Hermione feel this intense sensation of impending doom as she listened to her friend's pla—

Harry's delighted grin slowly twisted into The Smirk™.

"I was thinking of calling it 'WEEKLY VOLDIE*'."

_Oh bloody hell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This name is in no way, shape or form related to a certain He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Had He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named been the topic, we would have of course called him HWMNBN. We apologise for any confusion though we genuinely didn't expect people to jump to such a farfetched conclusion.


	2. VOLDIE*'S FIRST EDITION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Yes, Draco,” Pansy said drolly. “I’m sure Potter has spent the entire summer scheming how he can make you miserable and is now only drawing out the execution of his undoubtedly diabolic plan to drive you mad with paranoia. It’s a good thing you weren't fooled by his clueless, inept Gryffindor act these past few years and are thus the only one who sees it coming.”_
> 
>  
> 
> It's called famous last words for a reason.

**** Draco was suspicious.

They had been back at Hogwarts for a week now, and so far Potter had done exactly nothing. Draco prided himself on his understanding of Potter’s moods — they tended to be a good indication of just how badly a situation was about to blow up in all their faces and as a Slytherin, not to forget a Malfoy, Draco preferred advanced warnings and contingency plans over having to fight his way out of a Dumbledore-controlled school.

Besides Potter was _his_ rival and Malfoys — and Blacks, for that matter, he was, after all, his mother’s son — were possessive of what they considered their own. It was only polite to pay attention.

At least that had been his excuse on their first day back. By now it had devolved from reasonable attentiveness to a matter of survival.

Because an entire week had passed and _nothing_ happened.

Draco didn’t know what exactly he had expected. But it had definitely involved loudmouthed, foolish insistence that the Dark Lord was _really_ back, as well as a lot of entertaining fights with Professor Umbridge, what with Potter being a Gryffindor and all. It was the natural state of things. The Dark Lord, and his father, and the Minister, and Draco, and _everyone else_ schemed and Potter fought them tooth and nails every step of the way with nothing but righteous stubbornness to back him up.

Bloody Gryffindor that he was, he had the annoying habit of emerging victorious from said schemes — or, at the very least, manoeuvre them into a stalemate — but Draco didn’t like to think about that too often. He still hadn’t forgiven Potter for winning the House Cup in their first year _when he hadn’t deserved it, damn it_. 

But that wasn’t important right now. What was important was this: Potter wasn’t quiet. Potter wasn’t subservient. And Potter _especially_ wasn’t apathetic.

Draco knew Potter. Maybe not as well as Granger and Weasel — it wasn’t like he attended woe-is-me slumber parties with the Boy-Who-Lived where they spent the whole night chatting about fluffy feelings and how hard it was to be the personification of goodness or whatever it was that Gryffindors did in their free time — but he had a working understanding of the Boy Wonder’s way of thinking.

Potter did _not_ yield.

That was the kind of thing you eventually picked up on when you kept watching the guy for four years. Of course, him standing against a fully-trained Death Eater as a first year — though Draco still wasn’t clear on what exactly happened, even the upper years hadn’t known any details, only that it apparently involved a powerful, magical artefact — was also a big clue. 

Draco had told his father as much, but he honestly wasn’t sure if Lucius had understood just how unmovable an object Potter could be when the mood stroke him. Not that it really mattered. The whole campaign the Ministry was leading wasn’t focused on changing Potter’s mind. It was meant to discredit him and keep other people from believing in him. If it shut him up, well, that was just an added bonus.

Only it shouldn’t have shut him up. Potter wasn’t the type to let anyone tell him what to do, especially not when it concerned something so heroically important. Didn’t anyone remember their _Imperio_ lessons from last year?

_Sure_ , _maybe_ Potter had simply grown up this summer and realised he couldn’t keep running head first through walls for the rest of his life because that wasn’t how the real world worked. (Except, of course, that the real world seemed pretty eager to adapt to Potter whenever it suited him, and no, Draco wasn’t annoyed by that at all.)

And _yeah_ , Potter could have learnt to keep his temper under control. Maybe. With Granger to keep him in check. Miracles had been known to happen — the Dark Lord did return after all.

But what his woefully ignorant classmates kept conveniently forgetting was that it wasn’t just the Dark Lord’s return the Ministry kept denying. There had been a causality. Draco hadn’t cared much for Diggory — though losing a pureblood wizard was always a shame, even when it was a Hufflepuff — and, as far as he knew, Potter hadn’t been close with his contestants. But he’d watched Diggory be killed, from what little Draco had been able to piece together.

Attacking Potter was one thing. Attacking those around him, even postmortem, was an entirely different matter.

Everything Draco knew about Potter — which was a lot (and no, that _wasn't_  creepy, it was called 'staying informed', Nott had no idea what he was talking about) — said that the Boy Hero wouldn’t stand for it.

And yet.

A whole week had passed, and Potter had done nothing. _Defence against the Dark Arts_ had passed and Potter had done nothing. Professor Umbridge had gone out of her way to rile Potter up, to discredit him, Dumbledore, Diggory, and every creature in existence besides. 

She’d referred to Lupin as a _worthless, mangy werewolf_ and Potter hadn’t even twitched.

No, instead of snapping and rising to Umbridge’s obvious bait like he _should_ have, Potter had kept his head down. He’d pulled out the assigned book and read the assigned chapters and generally didn’t so much as twitch a toe out of line.

Draco had been sorely tempted to check him for Polyjuice. Who knew? Maybe the rumour mill was right for once and _Harry Potter_ didn't even exist. Maybe Dumbledore did indeed have an entire army of well-trained soldiers, who were playing Harry Potter as part of their basic infiltration training because the real Potter heir had died the night the Dark Lord had attacked them. It made as much sense as anything.

Because there was _no way_ Potter was okay what was happening, within and outside of Hogwarts. And if that wasn’t alarming enough, Potter had been reading the Daily Prophet every morning, not with gritted teeth but an _amused_  smile on his lips.

If that didn’t spell trouble in every language known to magic-kind, Draco didn’t know what did.

*

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Draco proclaimed ominously as he entered the Great Hall along with Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy on Saturday morning. Zabini preferred to sleep in on the weekends and no one really cared what Nott was up to as long as he didn’t blow up their dorm again.

None of his friends showed much of a reaction to his statement, but Draco decided to forgive them for the oversight. In their defence, he had said the exact same thing every day thus far. 

In _his_ defence, he’d meant it every time.

“I’m telling you, Potter is up to something,” Draco insisted as his gaze swept searchingly along the Gryffindor table. 

The infamous Golden Trio hadn't arrived yet, but that didn’t mean anything. It was a sign of Goyle’s boundless loyalty that he didn’t roll his eyes at his announcement like Draco knew he wanted to from the dismissive twitch of his left hand. Goyle was decent like that.

Crabbe, on the other hand, was a sarcastic asshole and the only reason the rest of the world hadn’t noticed yet was that Draco usually silenced him before they left the common room. Of course, Crabbe had learnt to break that charm sometime early in their first year, and Draco had been waiting for his revenge ever since, but so far nothing had happened.

Considering that Crabbe’s vengeance tended to become more vicious the longer he waited to enact it, that wasn’t exactly a comfort.

“Yes, Draco,” Pansy said drolly. “I’m sure Potter has spent the entire summer scheming how he can make you miserable and is now only drawing out the execution of his undoubtedly diabolic plan to drive you mad with paranoia. It’s a good thing you weren't fooled by his clueless, inept Gryffindor act these past few years and are thus the only one who sees it coming.”

“You know, I liked you better when you agreed with everything I said.” Draco shot the girl a dark glare. “Wherever did the sweet witch that worshipped the grounds I walked on go?”

“She realised that being your girlfriend meant she would _still_ come second to Potter and got over it.”  Pansy sent him a sweet smile that would fool absolutely no one and strode towards their usual seats, leaving Draco spluttering in disbelief after her.

Crabbe snorted in amusement. 

Draco reflexively hit him with a silencing charm, then stalked after Pansy, grumbling under his breath all the way. It was too damn early to deal with these impossible people.

Pansy didn’t even deign to look at him when he sat down. Bristling, it took Draco a moment to push through his indignity and realise that she wasn’t just pretending to ignore him. Her gaze remained fixed down on her plate, her entire face frozen in a blank expression. Her wide eyes and pale cheeks told a different story though.

Following her eyes, Draco choked on what was either air or his own tongue. He wouldn’t know, he didn’t have the mental capacity to care. The fact that none of his classmates commented on his lack of composure drove home just how serious the situation really was.

There, stuck to his plate — and what appeared to be every other student’s plate, _dear Merlin_ , what had Potter done — were three pieces of paper. The first page was titled ‘ **WEEKLY VOLDIE*** ’ in bold, glittering letters.

“Oh shit,” Draco choked out in horror, shock, disbelief.

“Language,” Pansy shot back reflexively, her voice numb. 

She stared at the pages on her plate like they were a signed death warrant. Which, given that the Dark Lord used to execute anyone who dared to speak his name — Dumbledore and lately Potter being the obvious exception — it might well be.

“Oh _fucking_ shit.”

Draco shouldn’t read it. He really, really shouldn’t. Whatever Potter deigned to plaster over the entire Great Hall couldn’t be good. Especially not if it involved the Dark Lord in any shape or form. Ergo Draco really shouldn’t read it.

Oh, who was he kidding?

_Bloody Potter._

*

**WEEKLY VOLDIE***

_The first ever publication to keep you up to date on everything Dark and Lordy_

 

**Everything You Need To Know About ‘WEEKLY VOLDIE*’**

written by H. J. Potter

_My dear readers,_

_It is with great pleasure that I introduce you to WEEKLY VOLDIE*, Magical Britain’s new, weekly newspaper focused solely on the great VOLDIE* himself, faithfully delivered to you straight from one of Great Britain’s oldest, most powerful, magical strongholds._

_Whether you are a proud servant, forever loyal to your master, limited in your interactions with him by the unfortunate political climate, an eager Junior Death Eater unsure how to best serve your preferred Lord or a blinded and confused soul, who has not yet realised how you can best support the Dark: Do not worry! We, the founders of WEEKLY VOLDIE*, will gladly provide you with all the information you need to make an informed decision and figure out the actions that will best serve VOLDIE* in the future._

_Until this day, there has been a shameful lack of unbiased reports on VOLDIE*’s moves, his plans, indeed not even the most recent incident of infighting in his ranks has become public knowledge! I ask you, my fellow witches and wizards, how is even the most faithful of servants supposed to further VOLDIE*’s goals, if they are not aware what current master plan their leader is enacting? Why, they might accidentally ruin years of careful planning, simply by killing the wrong fifteen-year-old Hogwarts student!_

_To remedy this outrageous oversight, we from WEEKLY VOLDIE* will gladly keep you up-to-date oneverything regarding VOLDIE*’s current and future actions, new developments within the dark forces, and other bits and pieces the Dark-inclined and the otherwise curious desperately need to know._

_For VOLDIE*._

[Page 1]

_*_

**IS WEEKLY VOLDIE* FOR YOU? FILL OUT THIS QUIZ TO FIND OUT**

_Are you unsure if WEEKLY VOLDIE* is relevant to your interests? If you are not yet sure how you feel about VOLDIE* and/or the Dark or are currently stuck in History or DADA and wish to do something productive with your time, we recommend you to fill out the following quiz to help you figure out whether you should subscribe to WEEKLY VOLDIE* or not._

_Please answer each question honestly and without too much thought, it will help get you the most accurate result. Once you are finished, check the symbol behind each answer you’ve marked and count which symbol you have chosen the most. Then read the results for said symbol and you have your answer._

  1. _Are you and/or have you ever been a supporter of the Dark Lord?_  
[ ]  _Yes [*]_  
[ ]  _Yes, but I was under the Imperio [—]_  
[ ]  _No, but I want to be [+]_  
[ ]  _No [≈]_
  2. _What other newspapers do you read regularly?_  
[ ]  _Daily Prophet [*]_  
[ ]  _Witch Weekly [+]_  
[ ]  _The Quibbler [≈]_  
[ ]  _None or something else [—]_
  3. _What is your stance on the Dark?_  
[ ]  _I really don’t care. [—]_  
[ ] _I despise everything the Dark stands for. [≈]  
_ [ ]  _I believe the Dark bears watching. [+]  
_ [ ]  _I am a proud servant of the Dark. [*]_



[Page 2]

*****

**_Results:_ **

_The majority of your answers was a type_ **_*_ ** _: You are a proud and dedicated supporter of the Dark. WEEKLY VOLDIE* is exactly the paper that has been missing in your life. The questionnaire is a mere formality, you have already filled out the subscription form._

_The majority of your answers was a type **+** : You are leaning towards the Dark. Your curious nature and inability to resist gossip keeps you from pulling back, even if you don’t always agree with their political views. You will not be able to resist reading WEEKLY VOLDIE* over your friends’ or classmates’ shoulder — you might as well fill out the subscription now and save yourself the trouble._

_The majority of your answers was a type **—** : You don’t care about the Dark at all and pride yourself on your non-involvement in any conflict. Since you also don’t have anything against the Dark, it can’t hurt to subscribe to WEEKLY VOLDIE* and see where it takes you. If you have a loyal friend close by, they might even fill out the subscription for you, so you don’t have to put in the effort._

_The majority of your answers was a type **≈** : You are a fanatic opponent of anything Dark. Just reading the name of our paper had you reflexively reaching for your wand. Of course you subscribeto WEEKLY VOLDIE* — after all you keep your friends close and your enemies closer._

_You do not have a clear majority for a type of answers: You are likely suffering from a very cluttered, contrary mind and should probably seek out a mind healer or just go ahead and join the Dark. Subscribe to WEEKLY VOLDIE*. Crazy fits in nicely._

 

**SUBSCRIPTION FORM**

_If you want to receive any future issues of WEEKLY VOLDIE*, please fill out the following form:_

  1. _Name:_
  2. _Preferred delivery_  
[ ] _Hogwarts_  
[ ]  _Owl post  
_ [ ]  _Mail box  
_ [ ]  _Other:_



[Page 3]

*

“You realise what this means, don’t you?” Zabini asked casually over his copy of WEEKLY VOLDIE*.

Draco’s head snapped up in surprise. “Where did _you_ come from?”

Zabini raised an unimpressed eyebrow. To be fair, Zabini was rarely impressed. As evidenced by his complete lack of reaction to current events. 

“You’ve been staring at those papers for twenty minutes now, Malfoy,” was his dry response. A quick _Tempus_ proved Zabini right.

“As I was saying,” Zabini continued as though they were talking about Professor Snape’s latest assignment. “We’ll have to find a way to keep Nott from finding out about this.”

Draco’s eyes widened. He’d been so busy trying to figure out how Potter would survive the next twenty-four hours — never mind the week, really, how did Scarhead manage to piss off every single authority in his life at once — that the repercussions his actions would have for Draco personally hadn’t even occurred to him yet. Handling Crabbe was one thing, but Nott? 

Nott, who, upon learning that Potter had successfully smuggled a dragon into Hogwarts, had decided to blackmail Potter into getting him to share custody over the damn death trap — which was why Draco hadn’t had Crabbe and Goyle as back-up that night back in their first year, someone had to make sure Nott didn’t escape the common room before the threat was neutralised. Nott, who was legitimately insane, quite possibly thanks to his father’s liberal use of the Cruciatus, and who would take one look at this- this- _nightmare made of paper_  and happily sell his soul for it?

Pansy, always the practical one, vanished her copy of this damned wanna-be newspaper. It shivered, once, twice, and promptly multiplied into four more copies. Because _of course_ Potter had taken precautions. The moron couldn’t figure out that adding crushed batwings before the dried dandelions would cause an explosive chain reaction, but when it came to protecting stupid jokes that would legitimately get him killed, suddenly he was a magical protégé.

Draco didn’t slam his head against the table because he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys didn’t lose their composure, especially not in public, but it was a close thing. Especially with the empty subscription form right there. In front of him. Mocking him.

“We’re _doomed_.”

Right on cue Crabbe, who had evidently broken the silencing charm again, started cackling. Which did nothing if not prove Draco's point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This name is in no way, shape or form related to a certain He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Had He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named been the topic, we would have of course called him HWMNBN. We apologise for any confusion though we genuinely didn't expect people to jump to such a farfetched conclusion.


	3. VOLDIE*'S RECEPTION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I mean, it's _Harry Potter_. He always does something crazy — and I'm not talking about You-Know-Who, Cols, get that glare off your face before you stab someone — it's the truth. You may worship the ground he walks on, but Potter is a fucking menace whether he's insane or not and you know it."
> 
> _Whoever said Gryffindors can't be perceptive too?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The madness continues. Would you like some insight into the editors' working and scheming hours or prefer the outside povs?
> 
> Oh, btw I'm going on a holiday and won't have internet access for a week, so the next update will sadly take some time. As will my responses to your awesome comments because I have a train to catch and some last minute packing to do. Please don't think I don't appreciate them because I do and I will definitely answer you all when I get back! Your comments give me and this story life! (*not so subtly points towards the comment button*)

Colin was excited.

Granted, anyone vaguely familiar with Colin — which were quite a few students more than one might expect, thanks to his enthusiastic personality and his goal to find a way into the common room of every house to get a complete set of pictures — would pointedly tell you that 'excited' was a perpetual state of being for the fourth year Gryffindor student. There were also various rumours involving drugs, a serious potion addiction, and various far more nefarious theories in circulation, all of them eager to explain Colin Creevey's penchant for  _happy enthusiasm_.

The truth behind the many whispered rumours — his existence being a product of a Unspeakable-experiment involving Pepper-Up potions, a lock of Snape's hair, and multiple cheering charms being one of the more harmless ideas — was simple: Colin Creevey adored magic.

Unlike many of his peers, Colin didn't think he would ever truly grow used to it. Magic was always fascinating, always surprising, always one-uping the latest miracle he had seen. There was always something more, another physical impossibility happening before his very eyes, and Colin couldn't understand how anyone could not be in awe of it. How they could just sit there and treat it as their due, when magic was so magnificent, so far beyond them all.

And then there was Harry Potter.

Despite his bubbling nature, Colin was far from the overwhelmed eleven year old he'd been in his first year. He was neither blind, deaf, nor oblivious, and knew perfectly well what others thought of his 'awkward but hilarious to watch hero worshipping' as Ginny had so kindly put it.

He was well-aware that his class mates ridiculed him for it, that there were jokes cracked behind his back — and on a few occasions to his face — about his obsessive fangirling and other, less flattering terms. Never mind the hypocrisy, it wasn't like Colin was the only one being enamoured with the older Gryffindor. But despite the hype and the constant rumours, Colin wasn't sure if the others really got it.

Harry Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived, and Colin adored him for it. As did many people.

But to most of them — even Ginny, for all that she tried very hard not to — he was a hero. The prince charming of their favourite childhood fairytale. To adults he was the child that saved them, the one who put an end to their daily terror.

And Colin was self-aware enough to know that he wasn't that special, that he adored Harry for all the same reasons everyone else did: because he was Harry Potter, because he clapped you on the shoulder and told you to keep your chin up like you mattered, because he saved the day and the school and the world in his free time, because he survived the killing curse.

Colin had only known about magic for a few days when he had first heard of Harry Potter, first learnt of the miracles he'd accomplished before he was old enough to walk. And yes, Harry had been kind, if a little out-of-his-depth when Colin had first met him, had slain the monster that had petrified him and lived up to his reputation in the end, but that wasn't when it started.

Harry did the impossible whenever he pleased. He broke all the rules, even those of magic itself, if they didn't suit him. He was everything this incredible world should be, every hope and dream — because Harry was living, breathing proof that nothing was impossible.

To Colin Harry Potter was  _magic_.

And the notion of distrusting Harry, of turning his back on him, of believing the slander of the Prophet was as foreign to him as the thought that magic had rules that could not be broken.

Because Harry lived. And Colin believed.

So Colin was understandably put out when he turned out to be in the vast minority. A possibility that hadn't even occurred him — because, sure, the Minister was being an incompetent, flailing fool, but from what some of his pureblooded year mates had told him, that wasn't a surprise, so why on earth should their idiocy taint Hogwarts? Beautiful Hogwarts, which was second only to magic itself and Harry Potter on Colin's list of awesome things?

Except it had.

Tainted Hogwarts, that is.

There was simply no way Umbridge could be anything but a taint. An ugly, bright pink, blot of sludge that was set on ruining two of the best things in Colin's life.

Colin scowled down at his plate at the reminder — an action that in itself should have served as a warning to the clueless inhabitants of the castle, not that anyone noticed the Gryffindor's unusually dark mood. His excitable nature was one of Colin's most resilient character traits, though not the only one. As proven by the mere fact that the magical world hadn't managed to disillusion and destroy his endless wonder yet. Not that Snape hadn't tried.

Umbridge though. Umbridge wasn't like Snape. Snape was vicious, an utter bastard, constantly belittling Colin and putting him down, and quite possibly the most ridiculously biased teacher he had ever met. But there was something about Umbridge that rubbed Colin the wrong way. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, but out of the two least popular professors of Hogwarts, Colin knew which one he would rather trust with his back turned.

And it wasn't the ever-so sugary former undersecretary, that was for sure.

It should therefore come as a surprise to absolutely no one who had payed Colin even the barest hint of attention to learn that he had been ecstatic to come down to Great Hall last week to find the first edition of a new paper on his plate and Umbridge in the middle of an utter mental breakdown.

Well, sadly that latter part had mostly just happened in Colin's lively fantasies. But still.

Colin had been having the time of his life, snickering over his idol's latest work of genius — and some part of him knew that, as a muggleborn, he probably shouldn't take this much delight in WEEKLY VOLDIE*, but Voldemort had never been real to him the way it was to most magically-raised students, and so it was easy to take the joke in the spirit it had been offered — when Umbridge had discovered what had caused such a stir among the students.

A moment that more than few students had been eagerly looking forward to. Colin might be in the minority when it came to his stance on Harry, but Umbridge wasn't well-liked among the students, no matter what their stance on Voldemort was. Watching the simpering expression freeze on her face had been therapeutic. As had been her incredulity when she had cast an overpowered vanishing charm — hemming about protecting the poor, impressionable children all the while — only for the house tables to be suddenly covered in multiplying issues of WEEKLY VOLDIE*.

Colin smirked just thinking about the unpleasant woman's increasingly furious attempts to get rid off the papers. Until eventually — far too soon — Professor Dumbledore had taken pity on the Umbridge — or, possibly, felt obligated to spare his students from being buried underneath the increasing amounts of parchment — and had asked the students to please hand all their copies over to the closest professor for inspection.

Naturally, quite a few copies had left the Great Hall despite Umbridge's best attempts. Colin himself had made sure to save two copies. One to frame over his bed and one to hand to any curious late riser who had missed the commotion.

Umbridge had raised quite a stink about the whole affair, but although Harry had been dragged off to the Headmaster's office, nothing more than a few detentions had come out of it. Colin would have loved to witness whatever conversation had taken place. Sadly, neither Harry nor Professor Dumbledore seemed to be in a sharing mood, and even Colin wasn't suicidal enough to approach Professor McGonagall over the whole affair.

As a matter of fact, Colin — and every other student with a shred of self-preservation — made it a point to avoid the formidable Head of Gryffindor. The woman was not pleased with the current situation, that was for sure.

"Did I miss it?" Darren, a fellow Gryffindor fourth year, hissed as he slid into the seat to Colin's right. Being a halfblood himself and having spent ample time in the muggle world, Darren had been the first friend Colin had made at Hogwarts. Of course, sharing a dorm had also helped.

"Nope." Colin grinned, though it was getting harder by the minute to hold on to his fast-waning patience.

"Good." Darren sighed in relief and finally took the time to gather his shoulder-length, dark red hair up into his trademark high ponytail. It never failed to make Professor McGonagall purse her lips in displeasure.

Once convinced that he was now appropriately dressed for pleasant company — which he never was, not that Colin cared — Darren promptly whacked him not-so-gently over the head. "You know, if we were the sort of best friends to exchange friendship bracelets, I'd be offended by  _you forgetting to wake me up when I told you five times I don't want to miss the show again_."

Colin rubbed his aching head with a half-sheepish, half-guilty smile and pointedly didn't look at the thin strip of leather wrapped around his right wrist. He never took it off.

"I'm sorry?" he tried hopefully.

Darren scoffed. "You're lucky I don't mind your lack of common sense regarding all things Harry Potter. That doesn't mean you have to continuously forget about me every time he does something crazy."

"I'm sorry," Colin repeated with honest regret.

"I mean, it's  _Harry_   _Potter_. He always does something crazy — and I'm not talking about You-Know-Who, Cols, get that glare of your face before you stab someone — it's the truth. You may worship the ground he walks on, but Potter is a fucking menace whether he's insane or not and you know it."

"I'm sorry," Colin said. It was the only response he could think of. Sometimes when Darren went off like this, it was best to let him run his course.

"Really, it's a miracle the Weasley twins haven't built him a shrine somewhere already, one would think they enjoy Potter's antics more than anyo-" Darren narrowed his eyes when he caught sight of the guilty look on Colin's face. "…you're kidding, right? They don't actually have a shrine somewhere, right?! Colin? Colin!"

Colin thanked Merlin, Morgana, the founders, and every pantheon he could think of when Darren's suspicious look was temporarily diverted by a sudden 'POP' that echoed through the Great Hall. Pushing the matters of the Weasley twins and their terrifying ways of worshipping Harry aside for the time being, Colin focused instead on his empty plate.

After all, it had been a week since the first edition of WEEKLY VOLDIE* had gone out and, like all the other students present, Colin had been very impatiently waiting for the next issue. It wasn't every day that you got to witness the results of Harry Potter's special brand of madness yourself.

With an unholy smirk that held little of the excitable, young boy new to magic and a hell of a lot of the still excitable, slightly older boy who had gotten into multiple fights with those stupid, prejudiced, asshole Hufflepuffs who kept on mocking "Harry's cheating ways", Colin reached for the newest copy that had magically appeared on his plate.

He fucking  _loved_  magic.

*

**WEEKLY VOLDIE***

_The publication of the Dark, the Evil, and the regularly Malicious_

 

**VOLDIE*'s Unexpected Return: Where Is He Now?**

written by H. J. Potter

_No doubt, my dear readers, you have already heard rumours of the sudden return of VOLDIE* to Magical Britain after nearly thirteen years of self-imposed exile in the charming woods of Albania. Yet despite the stir his unexpected arrival has caused — after having been recognised walking in a fetchingly grave mood over his own yard by yours truly— VOLDIE* has proven himself to still be the elusive, camera-shy wizard we so fondly remember._

_But is VOLDIE*'s continued absence from polite society really the deliberate choice it first appeared to be?_

_Until recently, VOLDIE*'s lack of public appearances was easily explained, for when have we ever known VOLDIE* to run head first into confrontations like some common Gryffindor? But the more time passes, the more insistent we must ask ourselves: Is VOLDIE*'s silence a statement against our Ministry's pandering towards the weak and uninformed or is something more sinister at work?_

_A close confidant suggests that VOLDIE*'s health had been plummeting in the last fourteen years and is only just now beginning to stabilise again. But I am sure I am not the only one who is reassured by this unnamed source's assurance that the greatest danger has passed, and VOLDIE*'s strength is growing by the day. Indeed, the whacky British climate and the high concentration of wilful blindness our beloved community is known for seems to be doing wonders for his recovery._

_We can undoubtedly expect VOLDIE*'s public rejoining of our esteemed society within the next year or two. In the meantime, this reporter believes that we should all follow the courageous example our honourable Ministry has set and not acknowledge VOLDIE*'s return in any shape or form._

_I think that I speak for all of us when I say that I am proud to follow a government willing to go to such lengths to protect its citizens' privacy and reputation. The world needs more people as kind and considerate as our dear Minister._

_For now, we may rest easy in the knowledge that despite his notable absence our beloved VOLDIE* brings out the best in all of us._

*

 **VOLDIE*'s mood barometer:** Above the fury of a frustratingly helpless spirit stuck possessing small animals, below the contentment of a vain human taking pride in his reflection.

We recommend strict avoidance and studious deference when encountering VOLDIE* in close proximity of reflective surfaces, mirrors or attractive people.

[page 1]

*

**Tops & Flops of the week**

_VOLDIE*'s_ **_TOPS_ **

  * _Has successfully crucio-ed every single Dead Muncher available (read: not in prison, on the run or undercover at Hogwarts)_
  * _Has endured Wormtail's presence for 29 minutes at a time_
  * _Has thought up 13 creative ways to kill a rat (completely unrelated to TOP No. 2, this reporter is sure of it)_
  * _Has slept for nine hours straight_
  * _Has kept down broth and bread four days in a row (resurrection is hell on the digestive system)_
  * _Has not committed suicide out of boredom_
  * _Has not given into the temptation to burn down his current residence_



_VOLDIE*'s_ **_FLOPS_ **

  * _Has not killed Harry Potter_
  * _Has not killed any other people_
  * _Has not managed to re-grow his hair_
  * _Has not killed any muggles_
  * _Has not gotten Dumbledore kicked out of Hogwarts_
  * _Has not cleaned up his current residence in a week, seriously_



 

**The official stats**

_Crucio_ s used this week: 34  
_Imperio_ s used this week: 4  
_Avada Kedavra_ s used this week: 0  
Other spells used this week: 26  
Attempts to kill Harry Potter this week: 0  
Laws broken this week: 7 [not counting usage of the  _Unforgivables_ ]  
Dead Munchers recruited this week: 0  
Plans successfully executed this week: 0  
Plans cruelly foiled this week: 0 

 **VOLDIE*'s official status:**   _currently on hiatus_

[page 2]

*

**3 Ways To Get Back Into VOLDIE*'s Good Graces**

written by Har E. Pott-Erbrat

_You have served VOLDIE* proudly, but a moment of weakness and doubt caused you to lose faith in the cause? You panicked in the face of a prison sentence and let your highly-valued, Slytherin sense of self-preservation get the best of you? Are you desperately scrambling for a way to regain VOLDIE*'s favour, after having so cruelly abandoned him?_

_Worry no more, for this reporter has found the answer to your problem! Try out these three tricks and be back among VOLDIE*'s most faithful before you know it:_

_Buy muggle rat poison and spread it all over VOLDIE*'s grounds. By doing this, you do not only demonstrate your eagerness to make VOLDIE*'s life easier even when he doesn't explicitly demand it of you, you also take care of one of the menial tasks VOLDIE* should not have to lower himself to do.  
(And don't worry about Wormtail. Muggle poison is, after all, inherently inferior and can not possibly harm a wizard. Not even one as pathetic as him.)_

_Bring his snake a snack, preferably a rat. As someone not gifted with the enlightening talent for Parseltongue, you may not have realised it yet, but Nagini — VOLDIE*'s most cherished companion — is constantly hungry and nagging VOLDIE* because of it. Spare him the admonishment and you will surely be received more favourably in the future.  
Besides, let's be honest, it's never a bad idea to get on the good side of a nine-feet-long-and-growing, very poisonous snake with a decent taste for bloodshed. Just saying._

_The observant among you may have already noticed that heightened senses are among the benefits VOLDIE has reaped during his revitalisation. Therefore he will undoubtedly appreciate being gifted robes made of the softest materials known to wizard-kin. Thanks to the oppressive political climate the average Dark wizard suffers from currently, VOLDIE* can hardly go on a shopping trip himself, can he?_

_If you have any other tried and tested methods to help VOLDIE* on his way to greatness, please do not hesitate to contact us via owl. We at WEEKLY VOLDIE* wish you the best of luck._

_May your grovelling be worthy of VOLDIE*!_

[page 3]

*

**DO YOU HAVE A FUTURE AS A DEAD MUNCHER? TAKE THIS QUIZ AND FIND OUT**

_Are you unsure whether becoming a Dead Muncher is truly the path you are meant to take? Fill out the following quiz to help you figure out if a career as one of VOLDIE*'s most belovedly-feared henchpeople is for you._

_Please answer each question honestly and without too much thought, it will help get you the most accurate result. Once you are finished, check the symbol behind each answer you've marked and count which symbol you have chosen the most. Then read the results for said symbol and you have your answer._

_1\. Are you or were you a member of the house of Slytherin at Hogwarts?_

[] _Yes_ [*]  
[] _No, but I can convincingly pretend otherwise_ [—]  
[] _No_ [!]  
[] _Who cares?_ [?]

_2\. How Dark are you?_

[] _As Bellatrix Black as my robes_ [?]  
[] _Crucio is my tickling charm_ [—]  
[] _As Dark as VOLDIE* needs me to be_ [*]  
[] _On par with Snape's sense of humour_ [!]

_3\. How badass are you?_

[] _My ass is fantastic, thank you very much_ [?]  
[] _I swim in the Black Lake in January for fun_ [—]  
[] _You don't talk about the fight club_ [*]  
[] _These ridiculous responses are sending my sense of self-preservation into a panic attack_ [!]

_4\. How intelligent are you?_

[] _I am a very intellectual person_ [!]  
[] _Not as smart as VOLDIE*_ [*]  
[] _Well, I'm filling out this quiz, so mediocre at best_ [?]  
[] _I know a lot, and know where to look up even more_ [—]

 

**_WEEKLY Joke:_ **

_Q: Which ingredient should not be included in a complex, illegal, experimental rebirth ritual?_

_A: A worm tail_

[page 4]

*****

**_Results:_ **

The majority of your answers was a type [*]: _You are made to become a Dead Muncher. But then, you know that already, don't you? You possess the proper amount of dedication and deference whilst still retaining the ability to think for yourself and show initiative. VOLDIE* will be pleased by your service. What are you waiting for?_

The majority of your answers was a type [—]: _You are on the right track, but you still have some work to do before you're ready to enter VOLDIE*'s service — he only deserves the best, after all. Your eagerness to prove yourself makes up for a lot, and your willingness to push yourself will get you far. But although confidence and independence are good character traits to have, you tend to take them a little too far. Remember that you wish to serve VOLDIE*, not become VOLDIE*. And do not forget that VOLDIE* knows best. Keep that in mind, and you will be a worthwhile addition to the Dead Munchers before too long._

The majority of your answers was a type [!]: _You have a healthy sense of self-awareness and tend to prefer honesty towards yourself and others. While the former will help you complete the good work of a Dead Muncher successfully, the latter does have the unfortunate side-effect of earning you a one-way ticket to Azkaban sooner rather than later. It's recommended that you work on that. Do not despair, one is never too old to become an acceptable liar._

The majority of your answers was a type [?]: _You have a sense of humour and are not afraid to show it. While your admirable courage would have no doubt made the Sorting Hat consider Gryffindor as an option — no doubt your most shameful secret — this, sadly, only confirms what you already know deep within yourself: you aren't cut out to be a Dead Muncher and should you go ahead with the stubbornness those bloody Gryffindors are known for, it shouldn't surprise you to learn that your service, whilst appreciated, would be a short one. As a true supporter of the Dark, you would be of more use as a silent ally, supporting VOLDIE*'s work from afar. But do not let that discourage you! Every step, no matter how small or non-violent, into the right direction is still progress!_

You do not have a clear majority for a type of answers: _You are suffering from a very indecisive, contrary state of mind. As mind healers are not an option, we recommend you go ahead and sign up for the Dead Munchers. You will find many like-minded individuals among them, and what didn't harm them too bad should work for you as well._

[page 5]

_*_

**_Letters from Readers:_ **

[We from WEEKLY VOLDIE* do not take responsibility for the content of our readers' letters, nor do said letters reflect our own views and opinions.]

_Y'know, this settles one debate for sure: Harry, you're bloody insane. Keep up the good work, mate._

— D. Thomas

_This is an outrage. You-Know-Who's name should not be used carelessly. He may be dead, but the suffering and destruction he caused was real and should not be made light of. This 'newspaper' is a disgrace to every witch and wizard who died fighting him._

— K. Boot

_WHAT IN MERLIN'S SOOTY UNDERPANTS IS WRONG WITH YOU?!_

— D. Malfoy*

_We bow before you, oh heir of the greatest foursome to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts with its presence._

— Neither Gred nor Forge Weasley

_Mr Potter,_

_I don't know what to do with this, but whatever your definition of "keeping your head down" may be, I suggest you revise it presently._

— M. McGonagall

_Hey, do you think we should add a dating column? Even V- needs to get laid, right?_

— Definitely unsigned

_Cease this nonsense immediately, Potter._

— S. Snape*

 

*Names added by the editor to provide clarifying context.

[page 6]

*

"Hem, hem."

Parvati rolled her eyes. Known widely as the less academically inclined Patil sister sucked. Being among the brash Gryffindors could get annoying — mostly because people seemed surprised at even the weakest, half-hearted attempts at subterfuge she exhibited. Being underestimated was nothing new to Parvati, and rationally she was aware that it was one of her biggest advantages.

That didn't make it suck any less.

So she was a woman. So she was the second born. Of a pair of twins, no less. So she was a lion instead of a more refined claw. So her grades were acceptable instead of exceptional. So she cared for boys far more than for books and fancy magics.

Parvati had never been ashamed of who she was. She wasn't likely to start any time soon.

That being said, it was rare for her status as the brash, the useless, the spare to be useful. Parvati tried not to be resentful — she loved her sister and Padma had never made her feel like she was anything less but half her soul—  _but_. There was no point in prettying up an ugly truth. And to think, all the times Padma used to exclaim that Lockhard hadn't taught them anything…

Lately though Parvati had found refuge in her 'unfortunate' — though never outright labeled as such — status more often than not.

She wasn't the Patil heiress. As such her political views were of little consequence, as long as she wasn't heard too frequently. Her spiteful sniping at the Prophet's reports tolerable, for what young witch did not indulge in the occasional bout of pettiness? Her decision to hex Ravenclaw sixth year Gerald ' _Always knew Potter was cracked in the head, you know_ ' Torfin into the next  _bloody_  week — Who knew an exfoliation charm could make someone scream like that? Really, were all men such sensitive, little wusses? — easily explained and justified with steadfast house pride and unwavering loyalty.

There was a freedom in being second that Padma couldn't afford — not until the negotiations with Lord Berringthon were finished. Parvati would be more sympathetic if she didn't know exactly how involved their father kept Padma in the contract negotiations — and that Padma was quite satisfied with the results so far. After all, out of the two of them, Padma was the one who didn't believe in marrying for love.

Not that this had stopped Padma from covering for her when Torfin raised a stink about the incident. Or from pretending to be Parvati to get her own standing on current matters across very clearly to her house mates without actually outright saying anything at all.

Her sister would have made a wonderful Slytherin, Parvati thought with warm admiration and a bit more jealousy than she was willing to admit to.

"Hem, hem."

The point, however, was that Parvati could comfortably nibble on a piece of bacon whilst reading the newest issue of WEEKLY VOLDIE*, smack in the middle of the Great Hall, with a smirk on her lips that would have made Torfin turn around and run for it. Which, in all honestly, only caused her smirk to widen. Served the weak-minded bastard right.

She could enjoy Harry's newest madness out in the open, without having anyone look at her twice. Of course, with the ruckus the Weasley twins were making — and those two really needed to get a move on, Harry wouldn't remain single forever, especially not after he had lectured two puce-faced third years for two hours on the matters of homosexuality, tolerance, the beauties of bisexuality, and how he would rip off their pricks, slowly, and feed them to the thestrals if he ever caught them bullying someone for their sexuality ever again — that was hardly a new development.

Maybe she should give the boys a push in the right direction. Approaching the twins was always a risk, but Lavender had complained about their lack of 'projects' this year. Hmmm.

Parvati tapped her chin. Another thing to consider. But first—

" _Hem, hem_."

Now that was a sound that should never be enhanced with a  _Sonorus_  charm, Parvati thought uncharitable. Still, she had finished WEEKLY VOLDIE and already filled out the quiz — though she wasn't entirely sure what to think about the fact that she apparently would make for a good Death Eater as long as she became a little less independent — so there was no harm in turning towards the teachers' table and paying attention to Professor Umbridge.

Well, no more harm than paying attention to any poisonous, prejudiced, hateful person would do, at least.

Now that Parvati thought about it, that didn't sound very comforting. She was pretty sure those nasty hexes her mother had taught her were meant exactly for the type of person Umbridge was. And wasn't that just a sad statement, both about the standards at the Ministry and at Hogwarts.

Professor Umbridge stood in front of the table, facing the students with an expression of disappointment that made the tips of Parvati's fingers itch.

"Now, now, children, pay attention to your betters."

And Parvati had endured the unpleasantness that was four years of potions lessons by Professor Snape with the Slytherins, but  _not once_  had she wanted to spit into a teacher's face so damn bad. The woman had a way of raising her hackles with just a few words in a far too sugary-sweet voice.

Parvati held no love for Professor Snape — though if he were to put a little more effort in his personal hygiene, she could definitely see the appeal Lav always went on about — but she was counting on him losing his patience and poisoning Umbridge's tea. Maybe she'd lock the two of them into a classroom, speed the process up a bit, so to speak.

An elbow was driven non too gently into Parvati's side. She turned to send Lavender a glare, but her best friend simply mouthed, "You were doing it again," causing Parvati to quickly wipe the devilishly scheming look off her face. Not before Seamus carefully nudged away from her though.

A wise guy, that one.

Professor Umbridge was still talking, but Parvati had given up listening after that first sentence. She wouldn't do anyone a favour if she lost it and started hexing that woman the way her mother had taught her to. Well, actually she would do a lot of people a favour, but she was still a  _Patil_  and her parents' lenience only went so far.

She was regretting that show of self-restraint more, the longer the vile woman talked however. Bla bla bla  _the Ministry says_  bla bla  _WEEKLY VOLDIE* isn't just a prank gone wrong but the equivalent of committing treason_  bla bla  _the Ministry knows_  bla bla.

By the end of her speech, there wasn't a single student in the Great Hall that didn't look pissed off, offended, or had drifted off completely. It was almost impressive.

There was a mad scramble once Umbridge announced that everyone had to hand in their issue of WEEKLY VOLDIE* — apparently the magazine was against school policy now, because the Ministry was nothing if not diligent in trying to erase the V-word from people's minds, to the point where it was embarrassing — as people used the crowd to smuggle their copies out. At least the teachers hadn't tried to vanish them again.

A loud bang from Umbridge's wand and a squeaked "In an orderly fashion, now, and that will be 40 points from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw," — because the professor was nothing if not subtle — did absolutely nothing to calm the chaos. Neither did Professors McGonagall, Snape or Dumbledore, who seemed quite content to let Umbridge handle the situation.

Parvati considered her copy of the newspaper for a long moment, before she finally lined up with Lavender, Seamus and Dean to hand it over without complaint. She had  _seen_  the look on Harry's face when he stumbled back into the common room yesterday night after his detention.

There would be another issue of WEEKLY VOLDIE* in a week's time, of that Parvati had no doubt. She also hadn't failed to notice that Harry had disappeared with Lovegood and Colin Creevey of all people a few moments earlier. There really was no telling what sort of chaos those three could cause if they put their minds to it.

Parvati found herself looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Potter!”  
> The shout stopped Harry in his tracks. He slowly turned around to come face to bewildered face with— a very unfriendly-looking, glowering, seventh year Slytherin. With four even less friendly-looking friends backing him up, all of whom palmed their wands in an unspoken threat.  
> “ _How_ did you find out about the fight club?”
> 
> *This name is in no way, shape or form related to a certain He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Had He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named been the topic, we would have of course called him HWMNBN. We apologise for any confusion though we genuinely didn't expect people to jump to such a farfetched conclusion.


	4. VOLDIE*'S SPREAD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin himself had made it somewhat of a habit to make the very most of his Hogwarts house. It was always so enjoyable, the way people relaxed just the slightest bit when they learned you were a Hufflepuff. How they let their guard down just a little more than they would otherwise have. For what did they have to fear from the hardworking and the ever loyal? 
> 
> _It wouldn't be betrayal if you saw it coming, would it?_

****Martin Cortez was amused.

This was, by itself, not a particularly alarming occurrence. His colleagues would be quick to brush his good mood off as yet another sign of his lacking experience and youth, safe perhaps for a few well-meaning, teasing comments. Martin was only twenty-seven after all, the youngest among their group. _Too young_ , a few of his co-workers whispered where they thought he couldn’t hear, though he did his best not to take the words to heart. It wasn’t like their work was challenging or difficult, but it was _hard_ , and for all his easy smiles and cheerful disposition, Martin could understand their concern.

Azkaban, after all, was no place for the faint-hearted.

Of course, his old classmates would have been much more wary of Martin’s unexpected good humor in spite of the dreary surroundings than his colleagues were. But then those same classmates had ample opportunities to learn that Martin’s sense of humor was much more twisted than most would give a Hufflepuff credit for.

 _Ah, the beauty of stereotypes_. Everyone complained about them, sure, but when had that ever stopped people from using other’s expectations to their advantage?

Martin himself had made it somewhat of a habit to make the very most of his Hogwarts house. It was always so enjoyable, the way people relaxed just the slightest bit when they learned you were a Hufflepuff. How they let their guard down just a little more than they would otherwise have. For what did they have to fear from the _hardworking_ and the ever _loyal_?

Martin smirked.

It could be annoying on occasion — the off-handed " _Are you sure you’re a real Hufflepuff?_ " comments when he handed in a subpar report or went home early, the sharp " _A cunning Hufflepuff? Is that even legal?_ " remarks when he happened to display a trait his house wasn’t known for — but Martin was self-aware enough to recognize that he was just as liable to fall for the same traps. For all his mocking, he’d been caught off-guard same as everyone else when proud Gryffindor Venezuela Rictor had tricked Marcy Dedalus into revealing the existence of her squib brother in an admirable display of twisted word games no one had suspected from the unassuming halfblood.

That had been a good day indeed.

"What’s got you in such a good mood, boy?" Elberecht Werrington wasn’t the worst superior one could end up with, but he had been the head of the human guards of Azkaban for over two decades and it showed. Gruff, harsh and with little patience for social niceties, Werrington could be accused of many things. Coddling his men, the newbies or even the rare visitor, wasn’t one of them. But he kept them alive and soulful, which was probably the point.

Martin, for one, appreciated the man’s priorities. Even if he was unbearable before his morning cup of the dreadful sludge they called coffee. Martin, having downed potions with a better aftertaste, much preferred a good cuppa himself, but to each their own.

"Just my sister’s kid. She sent me these, probably thought I’d get a kick out of it."

Settling for a half-truth, Martin gestured towards the bunch of crumpled papers the little brat had sent him via owl. An owl that had made it _very_ clear that it appreciated its forced visit to the fearsome prison even less than Minister Fudge on his yearly check-ups. Not that Martin could blame the bird.

Azkaban itself was fine, and so was guarding prisoners — even if it wasn’t what one might call a very exciting job. But the constant presence of the dementors hung over the island like a thick cloud of colorless despair. And though the soul-sucking creatures were unable to enter the quarters of the guards for obvious reasons, their proximity was _always_ noticeable. A lingering sense of exhaustion and hopelessness, lingering on even the brightest of days.

There was a reason why so many of the guards ended up addicted to calming potions and liquid happiness before their first year ended. Few of the regular guards stayed longer than three years before they either requested a reassignment or were not-so-gently urged to do so.

Werrington grumbled something that might or might not have been an actual word, not that Martin would waste energy on trying to decipher it. Not before his boss had downed another cup of coffee, at least. It helped that he was still occupied with the paper his niece had sent him.

Alexiosa — poor dear went by Isa, not that Martin blamed her. He appreciated the proud traditions of his family as much as anyone, but when it came to names the Wizarding World really could take a leaf out of the Muggle world’s book as far as he was concerned. _There lies power in a name_ , please. There was power in muggleborns too and you didn’t see the old Lords falling over themselves to get their hands on them, did you? — had his wicked sense of humor and a cutting attitude to match, much to his sister’s exasperation. It wasn’t the first time that the brat had sent Martin something odd she thought he might find entertaining. It was, however, the first time the item in question was so openly questionable.

Not that Ministry regulations mattered much in a place like Azkaban. The guards had more important things to worry about than Fudge’s squabble with a school kid — or so everyone liked to pretend. Of course, were You-Know-Who actually back, it would be very much their problem. The alliance of the dementors was an open secret in their community, and none of them fancied fighting the creatures on their home turf, should it come to that. No, whatever everyone pretended to believe, Martin was keeping a sharp eye on the dementors. And his colleagues. And he wasn’t the only one.

It was for this very reason that Isa’s note, a cheeky ' _In case you want to keep your options open'_ , had been burned to crisps and its ashes vanished. Times of peace or not, there were certain jokes it wasn’t safe to say out loud, and wouldn’t be for many years yet.

That didn’t make them any less funny.

Werrington slammed his chipped, now empty cup onto the table.

"Enough daydreaming, Cortez. We’ve got work to do."

Rolling his eyes where his boss wouldn’t see it, Martin put the papers into the oversized pockets of his outer robe and out of his mind and made to follow Werrington out of the tiny, overheated break room. Matters of Dark and Light had been stewing for the past fourteen years, they could wait another few hours.

They had a perimeter to check.

*

Martin had visited many places over the course of his life. None of them had ever lived up to their reputation quite like Azkaban did. Then again, without personal experience it was hard to imagine just how much the infestation of the dementors shaped the island. Hogwarts had taught Martin a great deal about dark creatures, but few were as _cursed_ as dementors. Even among the Dark they had no friends and few allies. Martin had no doubt that You-Know-Who had only ever used them as a weapon because it was better than having them used against his forces.

The cells in Azkaban were small. Not that it mattered much, prisoners usually weren’t in a shape to move after the first few months at the latest. The long, winded floors were dirty, cold and unkept. Nothing to be done against the unforgiving wind and stench of moss, piss and sweat.

Trotting down the corridors, keeping a watchful distance to the bars and taking stock of the state of the inmates was at once exhausting and mind-numbingly boring. _Busy work_ , one of the visiting aurors had called it once uncharitably, and, for all that he was tempted to trip the asshole into a dementor, Martin privately couldn’t help but agree. Couldn’t help but think that maybe he would have preferred _wet work_ instead, if it would only get him off this Merlin-forsaken island. Alas, it was not meant to be.

They took the usual route, starting with the lowest floor and steadily working their way up towards the higher security cases. In a different environment, the high-security cases might have been locked away deep down in the stony cellars that rather reminded Martin of a tomb, but with the dementors being airborne creatures — and the guards having no interest to being locked into close quarters with them if at all avoidable — Azkaban handled things the other way around.

The walk passed in silence for the most part. Werrington occasionally named a prisoner they would have to keep a close eye on — even after months of training Martin didn’t see half the signs Werrington easily picked out. Really, it was freaky the way that man seemed to predict which one’s declining health would lead to an early death and which one would hold on for another decade out of sheer spite. Surprisingly or maybe not, most of the high-security prisoners fell into the latter category. Of course if they had held on for the last fourteen years, there really was no reason to assume they wouldn’t continue to do so.

Martin wondered what the point was. Most of them were mad beyond reason. At this point, death would be a mercy, not a punishment. But then, maybe that was precisely the point.

"Thirty-two won’t last the week," Werrington commented off-handedly.

Martin blinked. Then scrambled for the forms he was required to carry around because few things on Azkaban caused as much paper work as an inmate’s death.

"What’s that?" Werrington stared at the definitely-not-Ministry-ordered-standard-forms in his hand, proclaiming 'WEEKLY VOLDIE*' in bold lettering. "That the letter from your niece?"

Martin couldn’t read the tone of voice, but at least his boss wasn’t screaming. People had a way of becoming down-right hysterical if You-Know-Who was mentioned at the wrong time, particularly after that Potter kid had insisted on his return.

"What can I say? Kid’s got a fucked-up sense of humor." Martin shrugged. It was true enough and the main reason Isa was his favorite among the immediate family.

Chucking the papers over his shoulder — he’d read the thing already and thought it hilarious, not that he would say so _now_ , maybe he’d consider a subscription _away_ from Werrington’s sharp gaze — Martin finally found the correct form and filled out the basic information on inmate thirty-two.

Werrington shook his head but didn’t comment. Neither of the two men payed attention to the pale, skeletal-thin hand that sneaked through the bars and grabbed the discarded newspaper edition.

*

**WEEKLY VOLDIE***

_The Publication of Everything Tall, Dark and Hairless_

 

**Our Ministry’s First Forays Into The Dark: A Cowardly Trap Or A Bold Declaration?**

written by H. J. Potter

_In recent weeks, rumors point towards a most unexpected development: Indeed, they indicate that one of our esteemed Minister’s very own people has taken a first, tentative step into the enlightening art of torture that we all share a healthy passion for.Not only this, but an unnamed witness suggests that they are deliberately targeting children, an admirable level of cruelty even our most hopeful reporter could not have predicted with any amount of confidence._

_We of WEEKLY VOLDIE* must commend the Minister for this bold declaration, particularly as the Minister’s minion in question is currently stationed at Hogwarts, a school firmly in control of the ever-so close-minded 'Light' — if this is indeed the offering of a future alliance with the Dark it appears to be. This reporter shares your excitement at the possible implications and future legislative opportunities this unexpected curveball may present. And of course our approval of this adorably klutzy, but still commendable attempt to lay the first stone for a successful reign of terror goes without saying. It takes true dedication, a strong will and the strength to turn your back on social conventions that frown upon worthwhile torture lessons as a part of the rearing of our children to build such a regime from the ground up — and we, for one, applaud the Minister for his unconventional but heartfelt statement._

_Nevertheless, this bold move leaves many questions unanswered: Is our Ministry indeed finally reaching out towards the long-overlooked Dark? Will he follow through and stand strong in the face of the uproar his stance will undoubtedly cause in those of weaker minds and stomach? Or is this merely a weak attempt to gain VOLDIE*’s favor after having forsaken Him so easily all those years ago?_

_Or is something more sinister at work and our long-respected Ministry is now revealing its true face in a desperate bid for power before the Dark has regained its former strength? We at WEEKLY VOLDIE will keep an eye on the situation for you!_

 

 **VOLDIE*’s mood barometer:** Above the justified ire of suffering the deplorable indignity of being suffocated by a terribly unwashed turban and its accompanying garlic stench and below the sweet satisfaction of enjoying the company of at least one mediocrely capable wizard or witch. We recommend to keep a healthy distance from any rats, moles and other embarrassments of a minion that come to mind — a radius of fifteen feet at all times should suffice.

[page 1]

*

**Most Evile Hot News of the Week**

brought to you by Harri Pott

**New Outfit Options For The Well-Dressed Wicked**

Twilfitt and Tattings _has introduced a new selection of weekday robes this week. Inspired by the elegant, cutting style of Modern Milan and traditional battle robes of central Europe, their waist-emphasizing, knee-length cut as well as the high-buttoned collar are a must-have for any trend-savvy servant of the Dark. Furthermore, the refreshingly wide-cut sleeves allow for a wide range of wand movements outside the immediate view of possible enemies whilst still covering a Witch or Wizard’s forearms at all times. Remember, my dear readers, be it in Azkaban or Little Hangleton, there is no excuse to not be the best-dressed person in the room — or randomly chosen graveyard, as the case may be._

**The Dark and Devious Dream Couple’s Challenges**

_Well-known socialite Magnolia Malfoi has attended the Annual Fundraiser for Magical Orphans. While her outfit was on point as expected, the understated, sky blue robes were overshadowed the glaring absence of her dashing husband, Lucious Malfoi. We are happy to confirm — despite malicious whispers — that the Dark and Devious Dream Couple’s relationship is as strong and unbreakable as always. We of WEEKLY VOLDIE* are confident that Magnolia Malfoi will continue to bear her beloved’s split attention in these tiring times with the grace and dignity befitting of her station — and, of course, look breathtaking whilst doing so._

**Love Beyond the Dark?**

_Aurélie Bayward, daughter of Marcellus and Valerie Bayward, has repeatedly been sighted in the company of Lara and Louis Dwyer. While some sources suggest that the 'Light Lord' may once more employ most underhanded tactics to seduce stout daughters of the dark and trick them into breaking the treasured bonds of family beyond repair, close friends insist their relationship is built on genuine feelings — on both sides, no less. If there love is indeed true, this reporter can only hope that it will survive the turbulent times ahead!_

[page 2]

*

**Tops & Flops of the Week**

_VOLDIE*’s_ **_TOPS_ **

  * _Has endured Wormtail’s presence for 32 minutes at a time_
  * _Has kept down broth and bread eleven days in a row_
  * _Has endured Nagini’s terrifying attempt at mothering without twitching once_
  * _Has not killed any of his loyal followers, no matter how whiny_
  * _Has gotten new inspiration on how to achieve His Revenge™_
  * _Has renewed his Daily Prophet subscription_
  * _Has still not given into the temptation to burn down his current residence_



_VOLDIE*’s_ **_FLOPS_ **

  * _Has not killed Harry Potter_
  * _Has not killed any other people_
  * _Has not managed to re-grow his hair_
  * _Has not yet recognized the advantages of re-growing his hair_
  * _Has not killed any muggles_
  * _Has not gotten Dumbledore kicked out of Hogwarts_
  * _Has not successfully crucio-ed every single Dead Muncher available, though admittedly not for lack of trying_



 

**The official stats**

_Crucio_ s used this week: 17  
_Imperio_ s used this week: 0  
_Avada Kedavra_ s used this week: 0  
Other spells used this week: 36  
Attempts to kill Harry Potter this week: 0  
Laws broken this week: 4 [not counting usage of the _Unforgivables_ ]  
Dead Munchers recruited this week: 0  
Plans successfully executed this week: 0  
Plans cruelly foiled this week: 0

 **VOLDIE*’s official status:** _hiatus still ongoing_

[page 3]

*

**3 Ways To Reach A Dead Muncher Acceptable Level Of Attractiveness (*1)**

written by Hay-Jay Potterdotter

_One question our dear readers — platinum blonde and otherwise — have been plagued by relentlessly is what to do when you find yourself, through no fault of your own, so attractive you simply can’t help but accidentally aggravate VOLDIE* by existing. As it is our latest issue that has raised this concern, we believe it is nothing but our duty to help you avoid this particular pitfall in the proud service of Our Dearest and Darkest._

_Try out our these three tricks to correct your outer appearance and watch as VOLDIE*’s blood pressure in your mere presence once more returns to healthy, reptilian levels:_

  1. _The most obvious and easiest way to accomplish your goal is to loose your hair. [This is especially true if you are acquainted with a brush and shampoo on a regular basis.] This can be done in a variety of ways, ranging from hexing your hair off every couple of days to using a Dark and Questionable Ritual known to curse your physical body for the rest of your life. As long as you don’t resort to plebeian Muggle means such as cutting your hair off, everything will be fine. And if you truly find yourself at a loss, VOLDIE*’s Horrifying Hairless Potion, brewed by two of our best potioneers neither of which is named Weasel, is as of now available for 10 Galleons via Owl service._
  2. _Another way to loose whatever physical appeal you may have at one point had is to remain in your animagus form for an unadvisable amount of time. This, admittedly, takes a great deal of dedication — though I believe I speak for all of us when I say that this is the least we can do for VOLDIE* — and takes a great deal of effort in the beginning, as it also requires you to become an animagus first. That said, a good twelve years in any given form, be it a rat or something impressive, have been shown to reliably ruin any physical appeal you may have had._
  3. _Finally, if you are truly desperate or simply lack the dedication that comes natural to a decent Servant of the Dark and are trying to hide this personal flaw, you may choose the road of good, old-fashioned maiming. In this case, as most wounds that are not caused by Dark curses are easily healed, you may want to employ the help of several of your fellow Dead Munchers and allow them to curse you in the next week. If you need any suggestions regarding appropriately dangerous curses, the life and continued survival of Moody Mad-Eddy may serve as some inspiration. And of course it is common curtesy to return the favor and curse your fellow minions, it would not do for them to come out looking too good — you are only thinking of their continued health and survival after all._



_If you have experience with any other ways to successfully diminish physical attractiveness, please do not hesitate to contact WEEKLY VOLDIE* via owl._

_May your appearance henceforth be unworthy of VOLDIE* once more!_

 

**How To Properly Monologue Like A Professional: A Tutorial (*2)**

written by Har E. Pott-Erbrat

_Monologuing in front of your defeated enemies [and potentially your cheering allies] is a widely acknowledged and often expected skill any Dark Lord is to employ if he wishes to be taken seriously. And while it is generally tradition that any proper minion is to be quiet and supportive during such an engaging speech, on occasion you may find yourself in a position to give such a monologue yourself — only if our beloved VOLDIE* is unavailable and has trusted you to fulfill your mission on your own, of course. It would not do to overstep. [Seriously. Don’t.]_

_Like any other skill, monologuing is something to be learned through repetition. Do not be discouraged if your first attempts fail to impress your fellow Dark witches and wizards. If you continue to practice diligently and follow this step by step tutorial, your monologues will soon do justice to VOLDIE*’s cause and be the source of admiration and envy of your fellow Minions of Darkness!_

_**Step 1:** Always be sure to begin your monologue whilst the poor, misguided pawns and unrepentant fanatics of the 'Light' are still alive. They may be on their way to bleed out or otherwise suffer from grievous injuries, but unless time is of the essence you should always hold your killing blow until after you have finished your speech. There is little to be gained from raging on a dead body after all, and, really, people will eventually start to talk._

_**Step 2:** Unless sufficiently maimed, be sure to secure the enemy before you begin your talk. Binding them with ropes should suffice, once you have disarmed them, there is nothing they can do to free themselves anyways. And really, the average Dark witch or wizard might be too polite to interrupt you, but the same sadly can not be said for the blinded, self-righteous Gryffindors you may encounter in your battles. The lack of manners these days is a tragic thing indeed, so be sure to consider a gag due consideration, even if their enforced silence may be less satisfying._

_**Step 3:** Make sure to always be honest — unless you are relying on the survival of your foe and intend to mislead the foolhardy forces of the 'Light'. Nothing is as devastating as the brutal truth. And besides your enemy is as good as dead already, there really is no point to keep vital information to yourself once you have made it this far._

_**Step 4:** Be open to constructive criticism. While it is true that most of your enemies are raging fools to far gone into their delusions to do anything but spit pointless insults in your face, some may offer you valid feedback on your performance. Do your best to remain calm, open-minded and listen closely. You may dismiss your advice afterwards, but remember that it does not hurt to consult people with different perspectives than your own._

_**Step 5:** Do not be discouraged by lack of respect and admiration in the beginning, either from your colleagues or your adversaries. Give yourself time to learn and grow as a moderately-public speaker. Not everyone can be a natural VOLDIE*._

_**Step 6:** Do not let the possible escape of your enemies during your monologue dishearten you. Consider it instead an opportunity to learn from your mistakes and be sure to put more effort into securing your adversaries the next time. Failures in this regard are expected even at a very advanced level — as VOLDIE*’s own experiences have shown, though his occasionally slow-progressing success only makes his unbroken willingness to lead the Dark all the more admirable — and while they can be an annoyance, they are not the end of the world._

_Always remember, monologues may take up time and be an inconvenience to plan and prepare for on occasion, but in the end they are well worth the effort. After all, how can anyone, never mind a bigoted warrior of the 'Light', appreciate the brilliance of your scheme if you do not explain it to them? Exactly._

_May your future monologues strike fear in the hearts of your enemies — with VOLDIE*’s blessings, of course!_

[page 4]

*

**HOW WELL DO YOU KNOW OUR MOST CHERISHED VOLDIE*? TAKE THIS QUIZ AND FIND OUT**

_Are you truly one of VOLDIE*’s most trusted or are you just kidding yourself? Fill out the following quiz to help you figure out where your place in the Forces of the Dark truly is and how well you know VOLDIE* in the areas that truly matter.  
_ _Please answer each question honestly and without too much thought, it will help get you the most accurate result. Once you are finished, check the symbol behind each answer you’ve marked and count which symbol you have chosen the most. Then read the results for said symbol and you have your answer._

_1\. Was VOLDIE* a Slytherin at Hogwarts?_

_a Yes_ [*]  
_b VOLDIE* is not_ a _Slytherin, he is_ the _Slytherin_ [—]  
_c No, VOLDIE* was always far too advance to bother with an ordinary Hogwarts education_ [!]  
_d No, VOLDIE* fooled the Sorting Hat and Dumb-As-Door with a masterful performance in a House-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named_ [?]

_2\. What is VOLDIE*’s favorite color?_

_a The yellow of Hufflepuff’s house_ [?]  
_b The violet of the ceiling of the Great Hall at sunset_ [—]  
_c The red of his enemies’ spilled blood_ [*]  
_d The green of the Avada Kedavra_ [!]

_3\. What is VOLDIE*’s most prized skill?_

_a To split himself into multiple VOLDIE*s_ [?]  
_b Flying without a broom_ [—]  
_c The Unforgiveables_ [!]  
_d Parseltongue_ [*]

_4\. Who is VOLDIE*’s favorite minion?_

_a Bella Trixie The Strange_ [!]  
_b Luscious Malfoi_ [*]  
_c A Serious Black_ [?]  
_d The Severe Prince_ [—]

**_WEEKLY Joke (*3):_ **

_When VOLDIE* is dunked into a blubbering potion, VOLDIE* does not get wet. The blubbering potion gets VOLDIE*._

[page 5]

*

**_Results:_ **

_The majority of your answers was a type_ [*] _: You have a solid understanding of VOLDIE*. While you do occasionally tend to let yourself get caught up in rumors and superstition instead of trusting your own instincts and observations, overall you know VOLDIE* well enough to correctly read his mood, interpret his orders and foresee his demands. This is a great foundation for a successful working relationship that will further VOLDIE*’s goals as well as the Dark Cause as a whole. Just be careful not to mix up facts with what the less observant consider common knowledge, a misunderstanding at the wrong time could have a lasting, negative impact on you as well as VOLDIE*._

 _The majority of your answers was a type_ [—] _: You know VOLDIE* better than he knows himself — and definitely better than VOLDIE* would like. For all your talent and promise, your position within VOLDIE*’s honorable ranks is precarious for that alone. Of course, you already know that. As you are still alive at this point, we assume you are somewhat capable of hiding the true depth of your knowledge. Nevertheless, we urge you to be careful. Should you raise VOLDIE*’s suspicion, he may mistake you for a spy and the truth would only make matters worse. You may want to volunteer for the next longterm assignment that comes up, just to be on the safe side._

 _The majority of your answers was a type_ [!] _: While your enthusiastic hero-worship is a constant source of amusement and flattery for the ever-so-devlish Dark Lord, you are well within the realms of 'trying too hard' as the muggles say. The mere fact that we ascribe a muggle term to your behavior is really all that should be said on the matter. You would do well to make use of that sense of self-preservation you supposedly possess and tone it down. Blind loyalty is all good and well, there is no reason to make a spectacle of yourself. Sooner or later, someone is going to lose their patience with you. If you genuinely wish to improve yourself, you may want to seek out an accomplished master of the mind arts and learn occlumency to help you gain control of yourself and your thoughts. Good luck!_

 _The majority of your answers was a type_ [?] _: Your understanding of VOLDIE* is rather limited, to say the least. It is hard to say if you have so little interest in the person behind the Dark Lord Persona or are so unobservant as to be totally lost to anything not pointed out at you. Either way, your appalling honesty on this subject is evidence of your utter lack of prudent self-control. We recommend you distance yourself from VOLDIE* immediately — physically, that is, not in terms of politics and goals. Please also keep in mind that a sense of humor, whilst entertaining, does not always guarantee a long lifespan._

_You do not have a clear majority for a type of answers: Your knowledge on VOLDIE* is mediocre and your guesses are hits as often as they are misses. You may wish to keep your thoughts to yourself and simply follow the predominant position at any given time. Not all is lost however: If you put in serious effort to pay better attention in the future, you may yet get to know the real person behind the intimidating mantle of VOLDIE* and secure a clearly defined place among the Dark Forces for yourself._

[page 6]

*

**_Letters from Readers:_ **

[We from WEEKLY VOLDIE* do not take responsibility for the content of our readers’ letters, nor do said letters reflect our own views and opinions.]

 _There are certain things not openly talked about, Potter, and you-know-what is one of them. Keep your silence or deal with the consequences_.  
— Probably a Hufflepuff*

 _Not sure what to think about how I apparently make a good Death Eater??? Like, Harry, how serious is this thing? Cause I really can’t be one, my Ma would skin me_.  
— K

 _Potter, are you trying to get yourself killed?  
_ — Sent in 24 times, always unsigned

 _Mr Potter, you will cease to hand out this ridiculous paper_ _immediately_ _. Your incessant demands for attention and childish tantrums are one thing, that you are using your unseemly behavior as an excuse to poison the impressionable minds of our country’s children is another thing altogether. The Ministry will not stand for your blatant abuse of the boundless favoritism Mr Dumbledore seems to have treated you with so far. You will report to my office at 8 o’clock tonight for detention.  
_ — Professor Dolores Umbridge, Undersecretary of Minister Fudge

 _This is hilarious. I almost choked but so damn worth it. Thanks, man. Seriously, I needed that.  
_ — Seam

 _I understand that to your current generation, the war with You-Know-Who is little more than an abstract history session. However, I urge you to reconsider your decision to make light of one of the most devastating madmen in recent history and all the terrible crimes that were committed in his name. This project is entertaining enough, but this does not change the fact that you are making fun of a tragedy that cost hundreds of good people their lives — and many of them have relatives and friends alive that still remember their sacrifices. Instead of honoring them, you are mocking the pain, tears and blood our hard-won peace has been built on. And that is something I cannot abide.  
_ — K. Shacklebolt

 _You realize that rat poison is in fact poisonous to animagi, whether it’s muggle-made or not, right?  
_ — Lily Moon

 

**READER’S CHOICE**

_Who has a greater sense of style: VOLDIE*_ [drawing of a dramatically billowing, black cloak with a drawn-up hood casting the face in shadows, only a pair of glowing, dark red eyes gleaming in the darkness, above the figure on the grey sky looms the glowing Dark Mark] _or Dumbly_ [caricature of a wizened, old man with a long, white beard, an imposing staff and a long robe colored lime green robes with bright orange stripes that fade into deep purple towards the seam] _? Owl us your vote now!_

[page 7]

*

Hermione was rattled.

Granted, this wasn’t anything new or unexpected. With Hogwarts slowly being taken over by the foolish Miss Umbridge — who really had no clue what kind of powers she was messing with, Hermione would pity her if the woman wasn’t so utterly vile — and Harry continuing his latest, Voldemort-centric madness, she wasn’t exactly running out of things to worry about.

Not to mention, Harry’s WEEKLY VOLDIE* coup had renewed the Weasley twins’ interest in him. Hermione had seen the way they were watching him now. She’d had nightmares about that look in their eyes. And Harry, sweet, oblivious darling that he was, soaked their compliments and — shudder — _suggestions_ up like a dried-up sponge.

It was a hollow comfort that at least she wasn’t the only one watching Fred and George with narrow eyes. Seamus and Hannah both seemed to take exception to the twins’ fascination with their favorite crush — and, really, was it too much to ask for someone normal, non-obsessive to become infatuated with Harry one of these days? He didn’t even have a love life yet, and Hermione was still on the verge of a nervous breakdown!

But all of these worries paled in comparison to the suspicious behavior Hermione had observed ever since two days ago Harry had received a scrap of a letter from what looked like a half-dead seagull. Harry was doing his best to hide it, but Hermione had been his best friend for four years filled with death-defying adventures. She knew him too well and she knew what those grins, a little too bright to count as harmless, really meant. Harry was _excited_.

It made Hermione all kinds of twitchy.

Ron, the steadfast loyal friend few people gave him enough credit to see, thought it was a good sign. He’d even used such phrases as 'being happy for his friend' and how 'nice' it was to see Harry come out of his shell again. Hermione would have cold-conked him with her book if Madame Pince didn’t frown on such violence in her library.

The point was, ever since Harry had received that strange letter — and that he burned it before anyone else had the chance to read it was a warning sign if there ever was one — he’d been nervously excited. He and Luna and Colin, that was. And if that wasn’t a heart-attack-inducing combination, Hermione didn’t know what was.

Those three were up to something. And as usual it fell to Hermione to figure it out before Harry brought down Hogwarts’ wards on accident, killed Umbridge on purpose or did something equally well-meaning but ultimately devastating.

Which was why she was currently stalking her friends. Well, if anyone asked, she was taking a walk with said friends, who just so happened to be unaware of her presence. Thankfully, people generally knew better than to ask Hermione anything when her hair reached this particular level of frazzled.

 _If only WEEKLY VOLDIE* had been a complete flop_ , Hermione couldn’t help but think mournfully. _If only it hadn’t been the single most hilarious thing most of the bored student body had seen since school had started up again_. And Umbridge’s reaction had done nothing but fuel the fire. Really, it didn’t even matter that most students didn’t believe in Voldemort’s return and thought Harry completely insane. What really mattered was that they were a bunch of teenagers locked in a castle with little to do beyond school matters and a truly dreadful woman for a teacher that _everyone_ hated. And now that Harry had amassed a following of loyal readers, there was no way he wasn’t going to milk this for all it was worth. No matter how many detentions Umbridge dished out.

There.

With one last flick of her wand, Hermione dismantled the last of Harry’s locking charms on the door of a random, abandoned class room on the fourth floor. It had taken her the better part of the day to track them down to this place. Harry was all but invisible when he wanted to be, Luna never seemed to draw anyone’s attention and Colin could be as sneaky as he could be loud.

Being finally presented with the chance to confront her best friend about his newest questionable hobby, Hermione did what any properly raised, proud witch would do: She blew the door open with a bang and jumped into the room with her wand raised, shouting "HA!" at the top of her lungs.

An awkward moment of silence followed as three pairs of eyes stared up at her from where her suspects — ahem, friends — were seated on the floor in the middle of the room.

Hermione cleared her throat, determined not to let their apparent harmlessness fool her. She knew better than that, she wasn’t a clueless Death Eater.

"Harry James Potter!" she snapped in her sternest voice. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Harry blinked. "Well, I always thought I looked spectacular in royal blue, no matter what the bathroom mirror says."

"You do," Luna assured him with a pat on his forearm.

"You really think so?"

Luna nodded emphatically. Harry beamed.

"Well, be that as it may," because Hermione knew better than to let them derail the conversation this early into her inquisition, thank you very much, "I would very much like to know what the three of you have been up to."

She’d expected more of Luna Lovegood’s personal brand of distraction. Or Harry’s pleading puppy eyes that he liked to employ when he was up to something he knew she _wouldn’t_ approve of. What Hermione _hadn’t_ expected was for Colin Creevey light up like Harry had declared him his personal hero.

"Harry’s teaching us how to cast a patronus!" His excitement was so obvious, Hermione could have sworn the very air vibrated with it.

Well. She could honestly say that whatever she had expected, this wasn’t it. With Umbrigde’s proven uselessness as a professor, Hermione had entertained a vague notion of asking Harry to tutor her and Ron — it wasn’t like they could afford not to know how to fight, what with Voldemort and Harry’s own aspirations — but with all the drama around WEEKLY VOLDIE* it had honestly slipped her mind.

"You are?"

"Sure. It’s a damn useful skill to have in general and once Voldie regains his strength, it won’t be long before the dementors flock to him," Harry stated matter-of-fact. "He’s sure of that and I don’t plan on betting on the Ministry. For anything, really."

A fair point, indeed.

"That’s— a brilliant idea!" Hermione exclaimed honestly. She couldn’t help it. She’d wanted to learn the patronus since third year — back when Harry had been pale and unresponsive and lifeless and she could do _nothing_ — and it absolutely was a skill they should spread as much as they could. There was nothing funny or harmless about dementors. And that was before you factored a war with Voldemort into the equation.

"You really think so?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Of course! The dementors are perhaps one of the greatest threats, save for Voldemort and his Inner Circle. And if there’s anyone who can teach us, it’s you!"

"Us?"

"Yes!" Hermione clapped her hands. "Oh, I can’t wait to see Ron’s patronus, there’s a bet going on about it being a sloth, you know. Idiots, the lot of them, it’s like they haven’t seen him at all in the last few years. And Seamus and Dean will probably want to join in as well— if they didn’t, Ginny would flay them alive and they know it."

Harry pointedly cleared his throat. "Hermione? Your faith in me is appreciated, but I’d like to successfully teach that spell to at least one person before you sign me up as a junior professor if it’s all the same to you."

The amused grin belied his scolding tone. Hermione grinned impishly back. "I make no promises."

"Of course you don’t."

"Now can we go back to the lesson?" Colin asked impatiently. "We’re kind of on a deadline here."

His words pinged _something_ on Hermione’s Harry-alert, although it was too faint to be interpreted. Before she had the chance to ask, Luna spoke up with a blasé, "Besides you may have a harder time than you think convincing other students to join in. Most of the dark and neutral families will be understandably hesitant to sign up for such lessons."

"What? Why?" Ignoring the fact that Hermione didn’t think the alliances were quite as clearly defined as to go by family name, she couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting to know how to defend yourself against a soul-sucking creature. Who _wouldn’t_ want to be capable of that? She’d have thought even the Slytherins would be interested. Self-preservation was right up their alley, wasn’t it?

"The patronus is pure light magic, Hermione," Luna said softly. "It is the kind of magic witches and wizards with a dark or neutral core struggle to accomplish. If overdone — especially whilst they’re still young and their cores are still developing — it could permanently twist their very magic and keep them from ever reaching their true potential. It is only due to Colin’s unaffiliated magic as a muggleborn and the Lovegoods have been light-oriented for centuries that we’re here now."

A long moment of silence passed as Hermione stared at the girl, attempting to come up with a response that wouldn’t make Harry frown at her.

"Actually, I’m here because Harry asked me to," Colin piped up.

"And your dedication to becoming a proper minion is duly noted," Luna conceded.

"That," Hermione said after taking a couple of deep breaths, "is the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve heard since Professor Umbridge’s welcome speech." And _that_ was really saying something.

Harry, on the other hand, seemed intrigued. "Is that really true?"

“Of course. In fact, I’ve long suspected that Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Flitwick are secretly part of a conspiracy to turn the proud heirs of traditionally dark and neutral families malleable and corrupt their own magical cores with light magic they’ll never be able to cast as good as their natural inclination. Don’t you think it’s suspicious that the very first charm we learn in his class is the Lumos charm that literally _makes light_?”

“No!” Hermione snapped. It wasn’t. Lumos was a simple spell that wouldn’t cause any undue harm if over- or underpowered, which made it perfect to help children get a handle on how much power to put behind a charm. And there was no such thing as light, dark and neutral cores. Where did Luna even come up with this stuff?

Harry hmm-ed thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard of this conspiracy.”

“You’re the figurehead of the Light, Harry. You wouldn’t have,” Luna explained sympathetically. “It’s why your own magic isn’t as strong as it should be. You’re fighting your own nature, poisoning yourself with all that light magic you keep casting without properly balancing it out. Whatever anyone might say, the Potters haven’t been light for several generations.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Hermione said after a moment of disbelieving silence. “And also absolutely _not_ true.”

“That’s what everyone thinks.” Luna nodded and reached out to pat her head. “That’s why they get away with it.”

Which sparked a twenty minute discussion that ended with a wide-eyed Colin and Harry, an unimpressed Luna and a frustrated Hermione.

Why, oh why couldn’t Harry go back to obsessing over Malfoy? At least the worst he did was throw insults in Hermione’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You know," Harry hummed a while later, Hermione having left in a frustrated flurry after a harsh debate with Luna on the existence of core orientations in magic, "I really didn’t think Hermione would be on board with this plan. I guess I didn’t give her enough credit."  
> "Well, we haven’t told her the details yet," Colin pointed out reasonably.  
> Harry blinked. "We haven’t?"  
> "It didn’t come up," Luna said lightly, an amicable smile on her lips.
> 
> (*1) Inspired by DivineBlackDragons’s awesome suggestion.  
> (*2) Inspired by Sseumersan’s awesome suggestion.  
> (*3) Shameless use of a Chuck Norris joke because I’m actually not very funny.
> 
>  **IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT:** I have created a tumblr dedicated specifically to WEEKLY VOLDIE*. Within the next two weeks, all already published (in this fic) articles will be posted on there. In the future, I plan to post additional articles that haven’t made it into the fic for various reason, behind the scenes stuff that’s been scrapped, but also give you the opportunity to interact with the staff of WEEKLY VOLDIE*.  
>  Such interactive stuff isn’t really suited to AO3, so I choose tumblr. There, you have the opportunity to send in asks with suggestions, feedback, take part in READER'S CHOICE and votes, or play the role of various characters of your choosing in sending in letters and see how the editors will respond. I think it could be fun (read: hilarious) and I really love this whole WEEKLY VOLDIE* concept but I don’t want the fic to become too cluttered, which is why I think this would be a cool solution. Now it’s up to you whether you’re interested or not, this fic will go on either way. But I’d be happy to interact with you on tumblr so if you’re up for that please give it a shot! :) So come on, follow [weeklyvoldie](http://weeklyvoldie.tumblr.com/). You know you want to!  
> Oh and before I forget: If any of you are interested in creating a logo/background for WEEKLY VOLDIE* or creating art/pictures that can be sent in by various characters PLEASE DO SO CAUSE THAT WOULD BE AMAZING.

**Author's Note:**

> Any thoughts and reactions are welcome in the comments! I'd especially appreciate suggestions regarding contents of the 'Weekly Voldie' magazine. Articles, interviews, tops and flops, gossip, what do you think absolutely should be a part of the weekly update of VOLDIE*s movements?
> 
> *This name is in no way, shape or form related to a certain He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Had He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named been the topic, we would have of course called him HWMNBN. We apologise for any confusion though we genuinely didn't expect people to jump to such a farfetched conclusion.


End file.
